Tales of Quintessa – Sharkticons of Malovia
by Aerisnoir
Summary: [G1] Even in the masses of identical Sharkticons, some are build different from the rest. Some of them swim upstream, following old memories and even older voices.


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**Tales of Quintessa – Sharkticons of Malovia**.  
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A sleek form glided upstream on one of the rivers that sprawled the surface of planet Quintessa. Sharp, strong dorsal spikes cleaved the surface when the Sharkticon fought against the force of the water, and the beast dove deep where the bedding cut into the ground. It swam tirelessly, occasionally snapping up a fish and devouring it with a quick bite. Sharkticons were ever so hungry.

It was only after a lengthy trek up the river, when the rocky edge lining of the river receded to make way for small dips at the waterfront that the deathmachine banked to the right. With a grunt, Macetail heaved himself up on the land. He stood quietly for a second, lime-green optics scanning the area and sensors sweeping the sky. It was dangerous to be here by oneself: The pack made safe. Solitude made prey. Those were principles ingrained by the forge into every Sharkticon it created. But despite the strong urge to be in a shoal, Macetail was alone out here.  
The robot kicked off into a wobbly run, trading the wet riverbank for the thick Quintessonian jungle ahead of him. His dorsal spikes flattened, and his stubby little T-rex arms were pulled flush against his body. Compact, the silvery cannonball hurtled through the growth, leaving a trail of debris as the spikes on his tail mace ripped through bushes and bashed the bark off of trees.  
He did his best… but he couldn't account for everything. Allicons simply had the advantage on land movement.

Macetail kept his head low, winching every time his lack of grace and solid weight found a fallen branch to snap in two and a rock to almost trip over. He halted promptly when a flash of movement grabbed his attention; teeth bared in reflex and dorsal spikes erected themselves in an utmost threatening posture. 'Macetail no food!' the thought crossed his mind boldly. He expressed the thought in a sharp guttural hiss.  
The flash of movement revealed itself to be just a small critter, and it took off quickly at the sight and sound of the Sharkticon robot. Hmm.

If he were to have any sense of pride, it might've taken a dent right now.  
Or not. Quintessa had some dangerous native wildlife. Being defensive wasn't exactly shameful behavior…  
Macetail ran off again, tearing through some more plants before he found a clearing. He perked up, mouth opening and tail wagging with glee. Wherever the Sharkticon was headed, he appeared to be going the right way. He dashed through a herd of herbivores, scattering them and chasing them mischievously. When he had his fill of playfulness, he returned to his destination at hand.

It had to be here somewhere…. He knew it was.  
Macetail ran another circle around the field, dorsal spikes twitching nervously. "This no good… open field, Macetail easy prey." He chattered to the air.  
The distant roar of a large natural predator echoed from a distance, and he cringed. Much to his own credit, the Sharkticon had the sensibility not to feel and appear as brave and steadfast like he did when on duty.  
Wait! There!  
The aquatic robot emitted soft grunting noises as his scanners picked up the composition of overturned earth and wet, misty water. He squeaked his excitement while following the lead, now seeing the nigh-invisible path. Yes, he found it!

Hidden deep within the jungle greens was a small cavern. Well, not really a 'cave' cavern, more like a burrow. The ground was trampled here, and it was moist. Thin grooves were carved into the earth. Macetail rushed across and disappeared into the opening into the ground. His sturdy raptor legs clawed into the muddy soil, at times feeling the wet squishiness of fungi species as he stomped on their growth.  
The tunnel led down and deeper into the ground before widening into a cavern.  
It was beautiful.

Green bioluminescent moss grew on the walls, fed by the humid air. A pool of warm water shone like brilliant sapphire from the center of the room. It glistened and reflected the swarms of luminescent fireflies that floated above the surface. Around the pool, littered across the cavern like stray pups, were the forms of several other sharkticons. They stirred from their slumber to watch the new arrival, grunting and chirping welcoming. Macetail sounded his own greeting, approaching and nudging a few of them before toppling bravely into the water. The shoal chambers in the tower were replications of this place, distorted in grotesque ways to fit the cleanliness and discipline of the Empire's totalitarian regime. Anyone who had ever protested that the chambers were fake, or unoriginal at best, had already been retrained to think according to the Truth as told by the Overseers. If anyone refused to conform, they had been quietly taken outside and shot.  
The Truth always prevails, after all.

But… there was a strain of Sharkticons who had never forgotten where the design of their chambers came from. They were called 'Malovian' Sharkticons, named after the Quintesson Malovia who had cultivated their life's essence. Malovian Sharkticons dreamt of the sapphire water and breathed the warm humid air while resting in the cold lake of a shoal chamber, nostrils filled with the scent of acid and too many sterilizing chemicals. Locked between the call of this luminous place and the Empire's Truth, their minds had squealed in torturous agony until their resolve broke and they, en masse, devoted themselves to another Truth: The Masters had made this cavern as a copy of the shoal chambers.  
It was a grotesque lie but their minds had been put at ease. And they had survived the procedure of culling 'untrainable' mechanisms.

Over time, after Malovia's passing, his Sharkticons had faded seamlessly into the masses.  
Macetail dove deep, dorsal spikes erecting again and swaying in the flow of the water. His feet paddled and his tail swished. The bioluminescent moss was especially present here, lining the walls and lighting up the liquid through which the Sharkticon passed. There were several other tunnels here, but Macetail let memories guide him. It wasn't before long that he surfaced again, closer to the heart of Planet Quintessa.

He was close, so close. His sensors picked up the mystical life essence of the planet. It reached out to him, lured his small sliver of being and welcomed him home. Of course, it wasn't home: the Empire was home, don't ever forget that. But it felt good to feel… wanted. To have something to embrace and connect and feel warm with. The Empire cared and provided… but it didn't warm.  
At best it prodded you in uneasy places with an electric pole until you started feeling warm from sore circuits and broken sensors and the numbing frenzy that meant you were fighting for your life.

Not this kind of warm.  
The Sharkticon skipped over a small isle to reach the second segment of watery tunnels. The heartbeat of the caverns coursed through him, a vastly different beat than what he usually heard. He waded into the water. It was a bit colder, cooled from underground reserves of fresh water. The ground sediment filtered it from any trace of acid and Macetail gratefully opened his maw to let it flood his insides while he navigated the underground caverns. He rolled around, swimming belly-up for a while, enjoying the peace and calm.  
A loud beeping noise from his comlink suddenly, all too suddenly, cut through the serenity. Macetail's optics widened ever so slightly as he stopped swimming. He made a garbled, bubbly noise of surprise and looked upwards as if he could see the satellite system he knew was out there, watching forever.

The voice that spoke to him was that of the Master of Inquisition. His ultimate lord and master. The Quint he would either die for or die by. Macetail winched as he heard the lack of effort to conceal any kind of glee within the voice of the high-ranked Quintesson.  
/Break time's over, Sharkticon pet. Return to me at once./

Macetail tried, oh, he tried so hard, to keep his voice professional and void of emotion. But he wasn't a fool to hope that the disappointment that coursed through him had gone unnoticed as he answered, /Acknowledged, Master of Inquisition Salaxorius Sir./  
The comlink connection shut down with a click as soon as he had given his acknowledgement.  
A quick flick of the tail and a nimble twist of his silvery body and Macetail headed for home.  
The water seemed chillier on the way back, and the forest smelled ever dank and dreary.  
When the tower of Khalanxis eventually loomed at the horizon, the skies had darkened and the land splashed wet from the acidic rain.

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End of story: Tales of Quintessa – Sharkticons of Malovia.  
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I got charmed by the idea of 'odd' Sharkticons and this notion of a hidden, mystical layer amidst the chaos and deadliness that infests Quintessa. This is by far the most whimsical story in my collection so far. Of course, Malovia is not a canon Quintesson, and Malovian Sharkticons are just a fanciful little 'what if' of mine.

_I am taking a momentary slowdown on the 'Journals' series: The chapter that is currently in progress uses a lot of different characters which makes it a bit more difficult to write. I've decided to focus more on these short Tales of Quintessa stories centering on characters and illuminating the Quintesson totalitarian empire a bit better: They are by far easier to write._

_If you like these stories, please do feel free to let me know. Before I started publishing here on there was a huge no-show on Quintesson-centered fiction for a long while. I build up the idea of Quintessa as a Totalitarian Empire, and… these stories generate traffic from all over the world. I am truly happy to see those stats since I am more than aware that this is a very niche area to write about._  
_(Until the trademark holders come up empty on villains for their shows and comics and decide to brush the dust off of the Quintessons, of course.)_

_Still, especially since this is a very obscure faction to write about; if you like these stories or even the world-building that I'm doing, know that it would make me very happy to hear your voice. I started writing for myself, but I'd prefer to know that I'm writing for others as well. _

_As always, I hope you enjoyed this short little tale!  
_


End file.
